It’s Daisy.
***
25 May 2016, 11.16 a.m.
55 days before the disappearance
Bishop Christopher’s Primary School, Oxford
‘Can I have some quiet, please? Settle down and pay attention. Tabitha, Matty, can you go back to your desks? That’s grand.’
Kate Madigan smiles at her class, and when she’s sure she has their attention, she turns to the whiteboard and writes a word in large capital letters.
FRIENDS
She snaps the top back on the pen and turns to the children. ‘We’re going to spend some time now talking about friendship. What makes a good friend, how to be a good friend, and other things, like what to do if you have an argument with your friend and want to make it up. So who wants to go first – what do you think makes a good friend?’
A hand goes up. It’s a little boy at the front, with curly brown hair and thick glasses.
‘Yes, Jonny, what do you think a friend should be?’
‘Someone who lets you play with their toys,’ he says softly.
Kate nods encouragingly. ‘Yes, that’s a very good start. Someone who will share their toys. Because sharing is very important, isn’t it? We talked about that before. And sharing is an important way to make friends. Anyone else have some ideas?’
A little girl with dark hair in an Alice band puts up her hand.
‘Yes, Megan, what do you think?’
‘A friend is nice to you if you’re sad.’
‘Very good, Megan. That’s important too, isn’t it? If you’re someone’s friend you try to cheer them up if they’re unhappy.’ The little girl nods shyly and puts her finger in her mouth.
‘Anyone else?’
Daisy stands up.
One of the boys at the back makes a face and mutters, ‘Teacher’s pet.’
‘I think,’ says Daisy, ‘that a friend is someone who will help you if bad things happen, and someone you can tell your secrets.’
Kate smiles. ‘That’s very good, Daisy. And do you have a friend like that?’
Daisy nods vigorously, her eyes shining, and sits down.
—
Later, in the playground, Portia and Nanxi are sitting on the bench while Daisy plays hopscotch. Millie Connor is hovering nearby, desperate to be invited to join in, but the others are pretending not to notice her. Over by the wire fence some of the older boys are kicking a football, and a small boy with red hair is tugging the sleeve of the teacher on duty, saying, ‘Look, look! My tooth came out!’
On the bench, Nanxi is texting on her mobile phone, but Portia is watching Daisy.
‘You know what you said to Miss Madigan about your friend,’ says Portia, ‘who did you mean?’
Daisy gets to the end of the hopscotch grid, then turns and puts her finger to her lips. ‘That’s a secret,’ she says.
Nanxi glances up, unimpressed. ‘You always say that.’
‘Well, it’s true.’
‘So you didn’t mean me or Nanxi?’ persists Portia.
‘Might have,’ says Daisy, avoiding her eye. ‘I’m not telling.’
‘I don’t know why we have to talk about stupid things like that anyway,’ says Portia, peevish now.
‘It’s called Sex and Relationships Education,’ says Nanxi, not looking up. ‘My mom said. She had to sign something saying it was OK.’
‘What’s sex?’ says Millie, edging closer. The others stare at her and Nanxi rolls her eyes.
‘You know,’ says Daisy, as if talking to an idiot, ‘when a boy sticks his thing in you down there and stuff comes out.’
Millie opens her mouth in horror. ‘What, in your knickers? Ergh, that’s disgusting!’
Daisy shrugs. ‘It’s what grown-ups do. It’s supposed to be nice.’
Nanxi stops texting for a moment and looks up. ‘I’m with Millie. I think it sounds disgusting. And in any case, how come you know so much about it?’
Daisy throws her stone on to the hopscotch squares and watches it roll to a halt before starting back down the course.
‘I just do,’ she says.
***
At 1.30 I give up trying to sleep and get up. As the weight in the bed shifts, Alex murmurs, then turns over. This time of year, the sky never seems to get fully dark. I go out on to the landing and into Jake’s room, the dark blue silence ringing in my ears. The window is slightly open and the pennant on the wall trembles in a current of air. I go over to close it and see next-door’s cat prowling across the grass. Jake loved that cat. He was always on at us to get a kitten, but I always said no. That’s only one of the many things I regret not doing now.
In his room, nothing has been changed, nothing moved. We’ll have to do that eventually, but neither of us can face it yet. We have a cleaner come in once a week, but it’s Alex who cleans in here. She does it when I’m out. She doesn’t want me to see how careful she is that everything goes back exactly where it was. I sit down on the bed and think about Leo, and how we’re going to have to talk to his GP. Because if I can see there’s something wrong, then his doctor sure as hell has. I lie down on the bed and then turn slowly to bury my face in Jake’s pillow. His smell is still there, but it’s going, and I panic for a moment, knowing that it won’t be long before I’ve lost that too.
I close my eyes and breathe him in.
—
‘Adam! Adam!’
I lurch upright, my heart pounding. Alex is standing there. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep but it’s not yet light.
‘It’s ringing,’ she says in hollow tones, holding out my mobile. ‘And given that it’s two o’clock in the morning, I doubt it’s good news, do you?’
I swing my legs down on to the floor. The screen says it’s Gislingham.
‘What is it?’
The noise on the line is incredible. I can hear at least two sirens.
‘I’m at the house,’ he yells, over the din.
‘Did we get the warrant?’
‘Look – I think you’d better come.’
***
It’s like bloody Rebecca. I can see the lurid glow above the estate all the way along the ring road, and the smoke hits me long before I turn into the close. There are three squad cars, an ambulance and two fire engines. A couple of firemen are up a telescopic ladder, hosing down the flames at the upstairs windows. There’s ugly black soot spreading across the red brick. As I draw up, Gislingham detaches himself from the crowd and comes towards me.
‘What the fuck happened?’
‘Looks like arson. You can smell the petrol. There was a small group of troublemakers here earlier, apparently, shouting threats and making a lot of noise, but uniform came out and dealt with that. One yob chucked a brick, but he was too far away to do any damage. The fire officer I spoke to thinks whoever did this probably came along the towpath and lobbed something over the fence. Some sort of do-it-yourself Molotov cocktail.’
‘Where’s Sharon and the boy? Are they OK?’
I should have asked that first. I do know that.
Gislingham nods. ‘Everett’s with them in the car. They’re a bit shaken. Specially the boy. He’s gulped down a lot of smoke.’
I look over to the squad car. The passenger door is open and I can see Sharon with a blanket round her shoulders. I can’t see Leo.
‘We’re bloody lucky there were no other casualties. The family one side are away and the other lot got out when Sharon went and banged on the door. Media’s loving it, of course. The Sky lot were camped out in their van overnight. They can’t believe their luck – they got to film the whole bloody thing.’